One Voice in Your Defense
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: Tony Vincenzo has long been the only editor willing to put up with Carl Kolchak. But after he is a victim of the latest creature terrorizing Chicago, he is not the same. If Kolchak had problems before, they're tenfold now.
1. The Attack of the Fifty Foot Worm

**Kolchak: The Night Stalker**

**One Voice in Your Defense**

**By Lucky_Ladybug**

**Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! The title is inspired by a line in the song _It's Probably Me_. The monster is based on the Lovecraftian Shudde M'ell created by Brian Lumley, but is most likely going to be something else. Thanks to Crystal Rose and Kaze for plot help!**

**Chapter One**

Carl Kolchak was hiding behind a tree, his tape recorder clutched in his hands. Next to him, stuck upright in the ground, stood an old and heavy sword. He cast a furtive glance over his shoulder before quietly hitting the Record button.

"Usually I don't document my ventures at this point of investigation. I'm too busy getting ready to contend with whatever's running loose." His eyes narrowed. "However, if I don't get down what has already transpired, the world may never know. I honestly can't say that the one coming back from this battle is going to be me. And if it isn't, well . . . the world is facing a danger unlike any they can even conceive of."

In the far distance, lights in several of Chicago's high-rise buildings flickered and went out. Kolchak regarded them in concern, but did not stop to take a picture.

"For the last several days Chicago has been terrorized by an evil so ancient, it may have existed long before the first human walked the Earth. It knows of right and wrong, good and evil, but it considers itself above any such moral alignments. To others of its kind, and perhaps even the Druids and other long-ago peoples, it was a god.

"To the people of Chicago, including my former boss Tony Vincenzo, it is a horror that they cannot—or will not—believe in. But . . . they may be forced to now."

xxxx

"_September 1st, 10:25 P.M._

"_Marion Jackson wasn't expecting to see anything unusual as she walked home that late summer night. According to meteorologists, autumn starts at the beginning of September, and the temperature was certainly chilly enough to go along with that. But what Marion found in Cantigny Park made her forget all about the cold._

"_It also made headlines across Chicago before anyone could put a lid on it._

"_At INS the next morning, keyboards clicked and clacked, telephones rang off the hook, and people were all a-chatter. No matter what they believed about what had happened the past night, there were several facts that could not be denied. Two people had been brutally killed, and a third, stricken with amnesia. The only witness—or so Marion Jackson claimed to be—had a story that only added to all the commotion. And that gave rise to a scene all too familiar to the employees of the Independent News Service."_

Tony Vincenzo slammed the newspaper on his desk in utter disgust. "A giant worm?" he roared.

"That's what it says, Tony! Marion Jackson claims that those people were killed by a monstrosity of a worm with tentacles all over its head!" Kolchak tapped the paper. "And it did something to that third person so that now she's wandering around without any idea of who she is!"

"Then it did something to Marion Jackson so she'd come back and tell a crazy story that no one in their right minds would believe!" Tony shot back. "I don't believe this! Several of the biggest papers in town are running this copy! The police must be going out of their minds that this slipped through."

"The whole crime is pretty unbelievable, Vincenzo," Kolchak said. "The first victim's spine was snapped in half. The second was found strangled at the top of the tallest tree in the park. And then you have the amnesia victim wandering around in a daze, seeming to be suffering from some unknown, untraceable drug in her system."

"And you have Marion Jackson claiming that she saw a big worm cause all of that chaos before disappearing back into its hole in the ground!" Tony got up, agitated.

"And there _was_ a hole in the ground!" Kolchak said. "Some of the dirt had fallen over it, but it was loose, and the S.W.A.T. team dug through and found a long tunnel! They followed it until they discovered an offshoot that had completely caved in. Explain _that,_ Vincenzo!"

"I can't explain it!" Tony snapped. "I don't _want_ to explain it."

"You don't want to face the possibility that a huge worm came out of the ground and killed those people!" Kolchak said.

"Of course I don't! Do you, Kolchak? Do you really?" Tony started to pace.

"No!" Kolchak said. "I'd really rather not. It's frightening. In fact, it's downright horrifying. _But!_ If it's the truth, then it has to be faced—by me, by you, by everyone!"

Tony turned away, throwing his hands in the air.

Kolchak pointed after him. "Aha, aha, _see?_ You can't say anything against it because you know I'm right!" He crossed his arms. "I just wish I'd gotten the exclusive on this," he said. "But the ironic thing is, if I had, it never would have gotten printed and Chicago probably wouldn't be in an uproar today!"

He grabbed his camera and tape recorder and reached for his hat in the bin. As he walked in determination toward the door, Tony turned to look.

"And just where are you going?" he demanded.

"I'm going to see what else I can learn about last night's crime," Kolchak said. "After all, Vincenzo, even you can't deny that it's news. _All_ of it, including the mention of a giant worm!"

"Kolchak!" Tony chased him to the walkway. "You are _not_ going to follow up on the angle of the giant worm! The police are saying that . . ."

"Whatever they're saying, it's probably a cover-up," Kolchak called over his shoulder. "But I'll be sure to look into that, too. Just wait, Tony! I'll bring back a winner for the evening papers!" He marched through the door and towards the entrance.

Tony watched him go, running a hand through his hair. This was a scene that had repeated countless times since he had become acquainted with the maverick reporter. One instance blended into another until it all felt like déjà vu. At last Tony turned away, shaking his head.

Kolchak really wanted to do his own thing. That was what he did time and again, no matter how many times Tony yelled and screamed and tried to order him to cooperate. And, like a fool, Tony kept him on in spite of all the defiance and all the wild stories he brought back.

The thing was, when Kolchak got down to it, he was a heck of a reporter. Editors and publishers across the country had recognized that too, but they had not had the patience or the will to put up with his shenanigans. Why was it that Tony did?

He sank down at his desk with a sigh. Well, at least in this case he had to admit that Kolchak was going after a big story.

He just did not want to end up putting a story about a humungous worm on the wire.

"Have you seen this rot?"

He looked up with a sigh. Ron Updyke was standing in the doorway of his office, holding up a newspaper. The headline boomed, _Witness Claims Giant Worm Murderer._

Tony sighed again. "Yes, Ron. I've seen it. All of Chicago's seen it. Probably by now, the entire _country's_ seen it!"

Ron sniffed as he turned away. "Who would have thought that someone else would have Kolchak's initiative?" he remarked as he walked to his desk. "And more than that, that their story would even get published?"

Tony stared at his own copy of one of Chicago's leading newspapers. _Police Intensify Search For Giant Worm. _"Who would have thought," he echoed.

xxxx

"_September 3rd, 12:05 A.M._

"_The papers didn't last very long, I'm sorry to say. By the evening editions, every one of them had retracted the story and was running a piece about the witness—whom I had tried and failed to contact all day—having obviously been under too much stress from the horrific kills she had seen. She had not really seen a giant worm; perhaps her mind had convinced her of that so she would not have to face the fact that a human being had done something so gruesome._

"_It left several gaping holes in the story, such as how the second victim had been placed on the top of a tree and where the tunnel had come from. But by now you have surely come to realize that those who cover up stories such as giant killer worms really don't care how outrageous and unfathomable their forced retractions sound. I came to that knowledge several years ago and somehow am still shocked and appalled that they think the American people are so stupid they will believe such cover-ups._

"_Unfortunately, most of them do. Many of them simply don't care. Others are certain that they are not being lied to. They're little more than a flock of ostriches sticking their heads in the sand._

"_I do get a great deal of satisfaction out of the fact that these days, more and more people are getting wise. In Chicago that chill autumn night, there were a lot of our fair citizens who weren't buying the sudden retraction._

"_Especially after the next murder._

"_I arrived on the scene fresh from an argument with Tony Vincenzo over the aforementioned human ostriches and asinine retraction stories. I wasn't in the greatest of moods. And I was looking to prove that the original articles were closer to the actual truth, a goal that my dear nemesis Captain Mad Dog Siska was determined to thwart."_

Kolchak pulled up in his yellow Mustang, nearly cutting off a squad car in the process. He leaped out, surveying the scene ahead in stunned disbelief. Just as before, there were two dead bodies. There was also a large quantity of disturbed dirt, quite possibly the entrance to yet another tunnel. Kolchak snapped a picture before advancing.

The sudden flash gained him the attention of the great majority of the law enforcement officials who were present. _"Kolchak!"_ Siska roared.

"I got here as soon as I could," Kolchak said. "I see that _something_ has been at work again." He frowned at the bodies. They were grotesquely mangled. Ron probably would have fallen ill then and there if he had come. Not that he had wanted to.

"Some_one,_" Siska snarled. "Not some_thing._ Just forget everything you and all of Chicago read in the morning papers!"

"And you expect me to believe that one person did _this?_" Kolchak gestured at the corpses. "They're twisted like pretzels!"

"So the perp had help!" Siska snapped.

"And when they were all done they dug their very own escape tunnel that would collapse behind them," Kolchak said, his voice dripping sarcasm. "I wonder why. Did it feel like the thing to do? Maybe they dug their way out of the state looney bin first, so it was becoming a tradition!"

Siska's eyes flashed. "Kolchak, get out of here right now!" he screamed. "You're obstructing a police investigation!" He looked to two bewildered officers. "Get rid of him!"

They stepped forward, reaching for Kolchak's arms. He jerked away in indignation.

"I'll walk," he said. "But just tell me this, Captain—how long do you really think you can keep something like this a secret? The witness described the worm as being probably fifty feet in length, perhaps more. And no matter how hard you try, not even the Chicago Police Department can conceal a fifty-foot worm. Sooner or later, it's going to come out where a lot of people will see it. What will you do then? Say they're all suffering from a mass hallucination?"

Siska refused to dignify the question with an answer. Particularly since he feared Kolchak was right. _"OUT!"_ he boomed, pointing towards the cars.

Kolchak turned away. "I'm going, I'm going," he retorted. "Don't get your moustache in a bunch."

He was smouldering as he got back in his car and started the engine. The police did not know how to deal with this. Before long they would probably be calling the National Guard. Either that or the National Guard would simply show up. And they probably would not know what to do either. What could be done, until the worm was seen again?

Somehow he had to find Marion Jackson. After searching all day he had finally managed to uncover her address, but she was not home at all. Maybe they had stuck her in the psychiatric ward of one of the city's hospitals. That was something he intended to check on come morning.

As usual, Tony would not want him to publish anything he came up with in connection with this angle. Tony's last words before they had parted ways involved an order that Kolchak either get a new angle or else go interview the actress Adele Lomax, who was in town promoting her upcoming movie.

It was highly unlikely that Kolchak would do either. And Tony likely knew that.

Good old Tony, _long-suffering_ as Ron sometimes called him for some reason. Now, if Kolchak could only convince him of the worm story enough that he would be more receptive to printing it.

But that was unlikely too. Especially since all the influential people in Chicago would be breathing down Tony's neck for it to be left alone.

Kolchak frowned. No amount of pressure could make him give up a case. Because of that, he often expected the same of others. He absolutely did not feel that people should allow themselves to be pushed around and bullied.

Tony had a different opinion. While he did not like being pushed around and bullied, he did not usually fight back or defy. He was generally content to be careful, to not do anything to rile the Big People. Still, when there were enough facts, he could be persuaded to go along with Kolchak's ideas.

That was what Kolchak needed now—enough facts. And without Marion Jackson—or the worm itself—he would probably not get them.

xxxx

"_September 3rd, 2:15 A.M._

"_As I drove off, Captain Mad Dog Siska's beloved screams ringing in my ears, I had no idea that within hours my life as I knew it would be drastically changed. And not only mine, but the life of someone I knew—or thought I knew—very well._

"_Tony Vincenzo, harried and frustrated as usual, had stayed late at the office. It had been an exceptionally busy day and night, and he only was able to find time to break away in the two o'clock hour. If he had left sooner, or even later, maybe it would not have happened."_

Every muscle was aching as Tony navigated the darkened Chicago streets. And he had a classic tension headache. It was no wonder, after the workday he had had. And he still did not know where Kolchak was off to. He had tried several times to call, without success. Honestly, sometimes he had to wonder why Kolchak even bothered with a phone.

He had practically had to twist his reporter's arm to get him to upgrade to a computer. And he still used film cameras and his beloved tape recorder. They worked just as well, or better, than modern technology, Kolchak insisted. And while electronic devices continued to be upgraded and easily break, the old things chugged along, working and faithful as they had always been.

Tony let Kolchak do what he wanted on that matter. Then again, with a wild spirit like Kolchak's, it was almost impossible to do otherwise. He did exactly as he pleased, no matter what anyone else told him. That was a large part of the reason for Tony's headaches involving him.

Tonight, Tony just wanted to shove it all in the closet for a few hours and forget altogether. He would go home, have a nice drink, and go to bed. After the day from Hell, he needed to break into the hard stuff. He had a bottle of chocolate milk in his fridge, as well as a bottle of strawberry milk, for just such times.

The ground rumbling underneath the car sent a chill down his spine. He looked out the window, frowning at the road. What was going on? An earthquake? Or maybe it was nothing more than bumpy asphalt and his stress was magnifying what he was feeling.

But the tremors continued. If anything, they grew worse the farther he traveled. He fumbled with the radio. Were there any reports of earthquakes hitting Chicago? He had heard nothing of the kind before leaving INS. Still, it had become impossible to deny what he was feeling. He pulled over to the side of the road.

Whatever it was, was right under his car. The vehicle rocked from side to side, bucking almost like a mad bronco. Tony gripped the wheel, panicked. Undoing his seatbelt, he fumbled for the door and stepped into the street, shaking.

The grass just to the side of the road exploded into the air. A ghastly, horrifying creature burst out of the ground. Just outside the cemetery, someone screamed.

Tony's mouth fell open in horror. This . . . this was . . .

The thing reached out with the tentacles sprouting from its head, curling them around a hapless passer-by on the sidewalk. As Tony watched, it lifted her into the air and began to twist her limbs unbearably, apparently trying to tear them out of their sockets. She struggled and fought and clawed and cried, desperate to get away.

Tony shook himself out of his daze. "Hey!" he yelled. "Let go of her!" At the moment, he did not even stop to think that he was ordering an astronomical worm around. Not knowing what else to do, he grabbed up a large rock and heaved it at the thing. It glanced off the beast's head, but that was plenty of damage.

The worm turned to face Tony. Still not releasing the woman, it shoved Tony's car out of its way with several more tentacles.

Tony backed up, his heart pounding violently in his ears. If he had stayed in the car, he would probably be seriously hurt or dead now. Not that he was not about to have the same fate anyway. How could he ever hope to go up against something like this?

The monster would have none of it. Even as Tony tried to look away, some sort of beam bore into his face. He cried out, his hands flying up for protection. The pain exploded behind his eyes, overwhelming him. He sank to the road, slipping out of consciousness.

xxxx

His senses made a slow return. The pounding headache in his temples, unfortunately, announced itself very quickly and with insistence. Tony groaned, turning onto his side as he tried to crack open his eyes.

It was still night; a streetlight shone on his location from across the road. And everything was quiet, eerily so. Tony started to rise up on his hands.

"What the . . . what _happened?_" he rasped. His car was lying on its side further down the street. Had he jumped free of it when there was trouble? He surely could not have been inside it when it crashed. It had fallen on the driver's side. And the windshield was not broken. Anyway, if he had gone through _that,_ he would never be in as good a condition as he seemed to be.

He hissed in pain as the headache raged. Maybe in a few minutes he could get his phone and call a cab and a tow truck. Perhaps he should have a doctor check him over, but he would far rather just go home and rest. In the morning, after sleeping in a bed and not on concrete, he would surely feel better.

After a moment the pain subsided enough that he reached into his pocket for his cellphone. He frowned at the list of missed calls. There had been two from Carl Kolchak. What was that nutcase reporter doing, calling him at four in the morning? Wasn't it bad enough that he had to deal with Kolchak day in and day out at the office without being bothered after hours?

Kolchak really should not even be at the news service at all. Why hadn't he been fired? He had been going on about that outrageous giant worm story earlier that day. In fact, that was probably what he had called about. And that was the last thing Tony wanted to hear.

Tony searched through the Internet on his phone until he found the number of a good tow truck company. Maybe they would not even be open so late, but he was going to try anyway. He wanted to get his car out of the road and get going on getting it fixed. And he would like to know what was wrong with it in the first place, too.

He never realized something was also wrong with him. As far as he was concerned, other than the headache, he was perfectly normal. But if anyone he knew had seen and talked with him, they would have recognized it within moments.

Slowly and shakily he pulled himself to his feet. Holding a hand to his head, he cast an idle glance towards the cemetery on his right.

His mouth dropped open in shocked horror. A mutilated body had been draped over the iron spikes on the cold gate. Deep crimson blood had dripped around the spikes and pooled on the ground.

His hands shaking, and unable to tear himself away from the unimaginable sight, he tapped out 911 on his phone.


	2. Changes

**Chapter Two**

"_September 3rd, 10:22 A.M._

"_I was most unaware of what had happened to Tony during the middle of the night. He had somehow managed to keep his name out of the papers; he was listed as an unidentified caller. Not to mention that I don't read the papers anyway._

"_I slept very little and got to INS in record time. That morning, Tony was the one who was late. And when he finally did show up, I wasn't very glad of it."_

The sound of the door opening brought Kolchak, Miss Emily, and Ron all to attention. Tony Vincenzo entered, looking for all the world as though he had not slept a smidgeon. Before any of them could even speak, his eyes flashed.

"What are all of you staring for?" he demanded. "Haven't you got work to do?"

"Mr. Vincenzo, we're only wondering if you're alright," Miss Emily said. "You're hardly ever late. And you look so exhausted!"

"I'm fine," Tony snarled.

Kolchak got up, making his way over from his desk. "That's good to hear, Tony. It really is." He leaned on the wooden gate with one hand. "I actually used my phone last night. Twice, in fact! But you never answered, nor did you return my calls. And yet you're always telling me that people are trying to call me and I don't have my phone on to answer them."

Tony met his inquiring look with eyes so cold they chilled him all over. "I was going to ask you about that, Kolchak," he said, ignoring the last of Kolchak's words. "What were you doing calling me at four in the morning?"

"I was trying to let you know the worm killed more people," Kolchak retorted. "Two more bodies turned up last night!"

Tony's expression only hardened. "Two more bodies may have turned up, but those people weren't killed by any worm," he said. "There's no such thing. And if you so much as try to pelt me with that garbage again, Kolchak, you'll be fired faster than you can think of a new lie about your identity."

For a moment the office was in shocked silence. Ron quickly broke it. "Bravo, Mr. Vincenzo," he said. "I'm glad to hear you say it. This time you sound as though you really mean it."

"I do mean it," Tony retorted. "Get back to work, all of you!" He turned, storming towards his office.

Kolchak was not deterred. With a frown, he walked through the gate and chased Tony into his office. It sounded to him, also, that Tony meant it. And that did not sit well with him at all.

"Okay, Tony, what's with this 'you'll be fired' bit?" he demanded, crossing his arms. "They're putting pressure on you again. Right? Especially with the story that got out yesterday morning all over Chicago. It figures; the first time in ages that the truth actually makes it to the newsstands and it still gets covered up."

Tony was just sitting down at his desk, holding his hands to his temples as though they were bothering him. His head shot up as he glowered at Kolchak. "No one's putting pressure on me," he said. "And that's another thing—where do you get off calling me 'Tony'? I am _Mr. Vincenzo_ to you!"

Kolchak was taken aback. "I haven't seen you like this since Vegas," he said. He racked his mind for an explanation. "You must have just got back from the doctor," he deduced. "That's why you're late! Is it your ulcer again?" He came closer, sitting on the edge of the desk. "Or maybe it's your blood pressure. Did he tell you it's still too high? You're never going to get it down if you keep this up."

He could see from Tony's face that something had just broke. Now his boss looked almost purple.

"Get off my desk!" he fumed. "And quit acting like you know enough about medicine to be a backseat doctor. You've been a thorn in my side for years. Now I'm going to give you one more chance—just one, and that's more than you deserve! You're supposed to interview Adele Lomax! Get on _that_ now if you want to stay on at this paper. And never let me hear you call me 'Tony' again! Do you understand me?"

Kolchak slid off the furniture and to his feet. "Yes, _Mr. Vincenzo_," he shot back, his tone utterly snide. "I'll be sure to file that away in the storage room of my mind."

Out in the main room the telephone rang. But it could only be heard for a brief moment as Tony's screams eclipsed all else.

"_OUT!" _he roared, pointing at the door.

Kolchak turned to glare at the office as he stepped through the open doorway. He had never expected such an explosive reaction from the other man. Even in Vegas, he had not behaved that drastically. And as far as names went, Kolchak had settled into calling him "Tony" while they were there. And Tony had let him.

As for the "one more chance" thing . . . did he mean that too? Part of him wanted to say No. Any Tony before today certainly would not have meant it. But Tony today was so different. Kolchak could believe that this time the threat was for real.

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" he asked of Miss Emily and Ron as he pointed to Tony's office.

Ron leaned back, a satisfied smirk visible behind the moustache. "_You're_ what's wrong with him, Kolchak," he said. "He's just finally realizing it now."

Miss Emily gave Kolchak a sympathetic look. "I'm sure Mr. Vincenzo is just having a bad day," she said. "You wait and see. He'll be back to his old self before long."

"I'm not so sure," Kolchak said. "He sounded like he really meant what he said. And there was something about that look in his eyes. It was . . ." He shook his head. "I don't know. There was something in it that I couldn't place."

"Now, don't you worry about Mr. Vincenzo," Miss Emily said. "You just get to work interviewing that actress."

"Actress?" Kolchak repeated, incredulous. "There's a serial killer at large—a serial killer that just so happens to probably be a fifty-foot worm! There's no time for actresses."

"But Mr. Vincenzo wanted you to interview her," Miss Emily said. "I'm sure he'll start feeling better if you do."

"Miss Emily, I'm not sure that there's anything that will make him start to feel better, in his condition," Kolchak countered. He crossed to his desk, grabbing up his camera and tape recorder before heading for the door. "I'm off!"

"Oh Carl, be careful!" Miss Emily called after him. "And good luck with Ms. Lomax!"

xxxx

"_September 3rd, 12:00 P.M._

"_I still didn't really have any intention of interviewing Adele Lomax. I sort of half-heartedly started heading for the hotel where she was registered, but one of my contacts chose that moment to ring me up about Marion Jackson's address. I had let all of them know I was looking for her, certain that at least one of them would turn something up. So within moments of taking the call, I was suddenly headed for St. Vincent's hospital instead._

"_The irony wasn't lost on me. Old St. Vincenzo's._

"_The Tony I had just left was nothing like the man who had kept a vigil over me after that frostbite incident in the basement of the now-defunct Lakeside Hospital. In fact, he was barely like any Tony I had even known at all. The look in his eyes positively chilled me, more than anything he had said. And there was something else about it, something more to it, that I still couldn't place. As I parked at St. Vincent's and went inside to find Marion Jackson, I couldn't stop thinking about it."_

Marion Jackson was keeping herself in a quiet, secluded room on one of the upper hospital levels. To Kolchak's relief, the entire floor seemed to be isolated when he got off the elevator. And he was never one to not milk a good thing for all it was worth. He headed for the room immediately, staying alert for any staff that might suddenly appear.

In addition to the nameplate at the side, Marion's door bore a large _No Visitors_ sign. Kolchak frowned at it as he knocked. Had the attending physician put it there? Or had it been Marion's idea?

"I've told you everything already!" came a frustrated voice from inside.

Kolchak inched the door open. "I don't think you've told me anything at all," he said. "Can I come in?"

A young woman with curly, dirty-blonde hair was sitting Indian-style on the bed in a heavy sweater and leggings. She jerked back, stunned by Kolchak's arrival. "Who are you?" she demanded.

Kolchak hurried into the room, digging out his identification as he shut the door behind him. "Carl Kolchak, INS," he said, flashing the wallet at her.

She raised an eyebrow. "The press? You're not supposed to be in here."

"Well, no one's stopping me," Kolchak grinned. He sobered. "Unless you want me to go, of course."

She gave a weary shrug. "Oh, what do I care," she grumbled. "It's the police who have the problem. I don't. They thought I should stay here for a while so I wouldn't be telling my wild stories. But I'm planning to clear out."

Kolchak reached for his notepad. "Before you go, will you answer some questions about what you saw two days ago?" he asked.

She looked away with a shudder. "Everything I saw was printed in those first articles on the case," she said. "The trumped-up dimestore stuff that came later is just that. There's no truth in any of that."

"I didn't believe the retraction story," Kolchak said. "So, you were walking through the park when you saw the giant worm and the dead people?"

She gave a weak nod. "It was just dropping the man with the broken back to the ground." Her voice lowered. "The other person was already in the tree. The _thing,_ whatever it was, was just turning to go when that other poor woman screamed. I almost screamed too, but I managed to stop myself. And I was thanking my lucky stars that I did when I saw what it did to her."

"What _did_ it do to her?" Kolchak asked. "I know she ended up with amnesia, but how?"

"I don't know." She frowned. "It just . . . cast this beam of light right at her face. She grabbed at the sides of her head and sank to the ground. Then the thing burrowed and disappeared. I only ran over after it was gone. I thought she was probably dead too, but then she woke up and didn't remember anything." She looked up at Kolchak. "I'll never forget that look in her eyes. She seemed so lost."

Kolchak quickly scribbled down notes. "Do you know anything about her? Her name, if she has family. . . ."

"Her name is Leona something. I don't remember her last name." She pushed herself off the bed. "Mostly what I remember is her family coming to get her and begging her to recognize them. She just regarded them like they were strangers."

Kolchak stiffened. "Strangers?" he repeated.

She nodded again. "I know that's how it would be, for amnesia patients," she said, "but it was just so . . . so weird and so wrong to see it. I can't imagine how her family must have felt."

Kolchak's hand trembled. That was what he had seen in Tony's eyes, what he had not been able to place. Even though Tony had addressed him by name and had remembered him and Miss Emily and Ron, he had looked like he did not really know them anymore. But . . . was that possible? Could amnesia ever be that selective? Maybe Kolchak was getting too far ahead of himself, but what if that was Tony's problem? How could he have gotten such a malady?

From the same source as Leona? Could Tony have seen the worm?

He had acted like his temples were paining him, too. Tony often got headaches, but right now, this way, so similar to Leona's symptoms, it sounded all the more suspicious.

Kolchak gripped the pencil tighter. "What did Leona say to her family?" he spoke at last.

Marion bit her lip. Suddenly she looked sad. "She asked if she was supposed to know them and said she just didn't. Then she wandered past them like she was in a daze."

"What about where she is now?" Kolchak wondered.

She sighed. "The police took her off somewhere. I don't know where. She could even be in this hospital."

Kolchak nodded. "Well, thank you very much, Ms. Jackson," he said. He started to put the notepad away.

She grabbed for his arm without warning. "Is it true that there were other attacks last night?" she demanded.

He looked to her in surprise. "There was one other attack," he said. "Two more people were killed."

She frowned. "I heard there was a mysterious death by the cemetery too," she said. "There was more shifted ground nearby, so people are saying it's another worm attack."

Kolchak froze. He really should read the paper more. "When was this?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Oh . . . really early in the morning," she said. "Some anonymous person phoned the police after waking up and seeing it. One of the papers even reports that his car was turned over somehow and no one will give a straight answer on how that happened."

"Really." Kolchak hesitated, the notepad still in his hand. "Which cemetery was this?"

Marion made a face. "I don't know," she said. "I'm not even sure if it said. They didn't want the public to go making a big deal out of it."

"That sounds like them." Kolchak moved to head for the door. "Well, thank you for your interview, Miss Jackson. I wish you all the luck in the world in foiling the plot to keep you here."

She gave him a wry smile. "I'll need it. Just get out there and prove I'm not nuts."

"I'm fighting in your corner all the way," Kolchak said. With a touch to his hat he was back in the hall, heading towards the elevator.

Halfway there, a nurse emerged from around a corner. "Can I help you?" she asked.

Kolchak started out of his mind. "Ah, no," he said, pulling his suit coat over to hide his camera. "My business here is all finished. I'm just on my way out." He dove into the elevator, feeling the nurse's eyes on his back.

xxxx

"_September 3rd, 2:27 P.M._

"_After my enlightening interview with Marion Jackson, my thoughts were spinning. Could she have really hit on what happened to Tony? And what about this other attack last night and the anonymous person who reported it?_

"_As soon as I got out of the hospital I picked up a newspaper and read over the story. There really wasn't much more to it than what Marion had already told me. So I decided it was time to pay my good friend Captain Siska a visit._

"_He didn't agree with me."_

Mad Dog Siska's eyes widened in shock and anger as Kolchak blustered into his office. He gripped the arms of his chair, rising out of it with a yell. "_Kolchak,_ what do you think you're doing, coming in here?" he roared.

Kolchak shut the door behind him. "Well, Captain, I decided that you and I should have a little talk," he said. "I just found out about _this._" He held up the newspaper.

Siska frowned. To Kolchak's surprise, he calmed down. "Yeah? What about it?" he asked, gruff.

"Specifically, I'm wondering about this anonymous person." Kolchak tapped the paper. "Who is he? And what happened to his car?"

Siska cleared his throat. Now he looked downright uncomfortable. "We don't know what happened to the car," he said. "He doesn't remember either." He walked around in front of his desk. "Actually, my department was going to get in touch with you."

"Really? Why?" Kolchak regarded him in amazement. "Don't tell me you're finally warming to the idea of a partnership!"

"_No!"_ Siska snarled. "I'll never warm up to that idea!"

Kolchak shrugged. "Then what?" He walked to the side of the office.

"Because . . ." Siska hesitated, debating with himself on what he should say.

"Because Tony Vincenzo is the anonymous person?" Kolchak supplied.

Siska jumped a mile. "How do you know that?" he demanded. "He didn't tell you, did he?"

"No. No, as a matter of fact, he hasn't been telling me much of anything lately—except that he'll fire me if I don't interview Adele Lomax." Kolchak stared Siska down, inwardly triumphant over his deduction. "Tell me, was he acting a bit . . . strange last night?"

"Yes, he was," Siska grudgingly admitted. "He might not have told us everything he knows about the murder."

"Oh really?" Kolchak could not help but be amused. "So the shoe's on the other foot now, is it? How does it feel to be kept in the dark, Captain?"

"Shut up, Kolchak!" Siska snapped. "What I want to know is if you can find out what he might be keeping from us!"

Kolchak slipped a hand in his pocket. "Well, I can try, but I can't promise anything," he said. "And meanwhile, maybe you can tell _me_ something. Did he act like he might have been hurt?"

"He found the girl's body when he woke up from being unconscious!" Siska fumed. "Of course he was hurt!"

"Of course, of course," Kolchak said, waving his hands in a _calm down_ gesture. "But I mean, hurt more than what you'd expect from his injury. And in fact, what _was_ his injury? Was he examined by a doctor?"

"The medics checked him out when they came for the body," Siska said. "They couldn't make heads or tails out of anything. They said he might have suffered some kind of mental shock or trauma. If he had, he was either denying it or just didn't remember."

Kolchak pounced on that. "Didn't remember!" he echoed. "Did he act like he'd forgotten anything?"

"I don't _know,_ Kolchak!" Siska snapped. Suddenly he stiffened. "Oh, I see where you're going with this. You think maybe Mr. Vincenzo was another victim of whatever gave that poor girl amnesia!"

"Exactly!" Kolchak punched the air. "He saw the worm kill the person on the gate and then it retaliated, just like it did with that poor girl. And where is she, Captain? I would like to speak with her."

"She couldn't tell you anything," Siska growled. "And she's been through enough. Just leave her alone!"

"Alright, I'll leave her alone!" Kolchak retorted. "It's just that I thought if I saw her, I might be able to figure out if she's acting the same as Tony has been today."

"Figure out Mr. Vincenzo's problem without bringing her into it!" Siska said. "That's an order! And report to me everything you find out. You hear?"

"Captain, you're practically screaming into my ear. Of course I hear." Kolchak rubbed at his right ear and winced.

"Then see that you comply!" Siska ordered.

"Are you willing to admit that a giant worm is involved?" Kolchak asked. The look he received in reply told him all that he needed to know. "You're not," he deduced.

"Get out there and find out what's wrong with your boss!" Siska screamed, pointing at the door. "And don't try to pin it on a worm!"

"Even if a worm was responsible?" Kolchak said, glancing over his shoulder as he headed for the exit.

"_OUT!"_ Siska roared.

Kolchak made a hasty retreat.

xxxx

"_September 3rd, 4:25 P.M._

"_This was certainly a unique experience for me—the police actually wanting my help. I wished that I could be of more use, but I was becoming increasingly convinced that the worm they refused to believe in was the source of all our problems, Tony's included. That made for quite an awkward situation, to say the least. But I wanted to talk to Tony again myself, to see if I was right about him suffering some kind of partial memory loss. So I turned my old faithful Mustang in the direction of the INS building. To say I found Tony in a bad mood would have been too kind."_

Miss Emily looked up from her desk when Kolchak came into the main room. "Oh, Carl, good! You're here!" She glanced at Tony's office window. "He's been pacing around for ages now."

Kolchak blew out his breath. "I was hoping against hope I'd catch him in a better mood," he said. "Because he's going to be in a terrible one after I get through talking with him."

"Wasn't Ms. Lomax home?" Worry crossed Miss Emily's face.

"I have no idea, Miss Emily," Kolchak said, barely looking her way as he headed for Tony's door.

He dove in without bothering to knock. "Tony!" he exclaimed. "Have I got news for you!"

Tony whirled around. "You'd better have!" he snarled. "And I told you never to let me hear you call me 'Tony' again! How dare you barge in here disregarding that I'm your employer? Before long, I'm not even going to be that!"

Kolchak waved his hands for silence. "Okay, okay! _Mr. Vincenzo._ I forgot myself there for a moment." He placed a hand in his pocket as he started to walk over to Tony. "You see, there's something strange that I have to tell you. Do you remember how you stayed at the hospital, keeping watch over me after I got caught with the liquid nitrogen?"

Tony gave him a disgusted look. "I remember," he said.

Kolchak rocked back, stunned. "You . . . you do?" he stammered.

"Yeah, I do. And I don't know why I bothered wasting my time like that." Tony stepped closer. "Let's get down to business, Kolchak! You said you have news for me. So give it to me or get out!"

Kolchak was left staring at him, his mind gone blank. He had expected Tony to tell him he didn't remember any such thing. He had never thought he would hear that Tony remembered, but it meant nothing to him. And there was still that look in his eyes, that horrible look that said Kolchak was a stranger to him.

"Siska was right," he breathed at last. "You did go through some kind of terrible mental trauma."

"Siska?" Tony grabbed Kolchak's shirt, his mood abruptly changing for the worse. "You were talking to him?"

Kolchak pried the fabric away. "Yes, I was," he said. "I wanted to ask him . . ."

"You were asking him more about that stupid worm story, weren't you?" Tony interrupted. "And you did that instead of interviewing Adele Lomax like you were supposed to!"

"I'm going to get to Adele Lomax!" Kolchak shot back. "Just give me a minute to explain . . ."

"No. No more explanations, Kolchak. I'm sick of your explanations!" Tony stormed towards the open door of his office. In the main room, both Ron and Miss Emily were gaping in disbelief. "I got a call from Ms. Lomax several hours ago. You never showed up. I gave you an assignment and I expected you to keep it. You didn't."

"I deserve a chance to explain!" Kolchak yelled over him.

Tony stepped back. "Alright, explain," he said. Now his voice exuded an air of false calm—which was quite possibly more dangerous than if he had continued to scream. "Just _where_ have you been?" he demanded.

"Why, I've been out gathering information," Kolchak retorted, his usual sarcasm thickening as he added, "_Mr. Vincenzo._ After all, a good reporter can't get a story cooped up in an office now, can he?"

Tony slammed his hand on the desk. "A good reporter doesn't go chasing after tabloid trash!" he snarled. "You're pursuing this worm angle after I specifically told you multiple times not to! Aren't you?"

"Yes! Because the entire city of Chicago is under siege by this _tabloid trash!_" Kolchak cried over him. "You yourself have been one of its victims. And an interview with an actress takes a backseat to the very probable chance that all of us could be wiped out!"

Tony stared Kolchak down, his eyes flashing. For a moment he looked too angry to even speak. But then he did. "Do you know what? I have _had_ it with you!" he screamed. "I haven't been affected by a worm or anything else. You are _not_ going to put me in this latest sensational disgrace of yours!"

"The people deserve to know what's really going on!" Kolchak protested, although he knew it was in vain. "Maybe if you'd paid attention, this wouldn't have happened to you!"

Tony was not listening. "And you won't get any more of this bleeding heart leniency from me, either!" He stepped outside and then turned back, facing Kolchak as he came to the doorway. "Time after time through the years you've defied me and gone and done whatever you wanted to, instead of following up on what you were assigned to cover! You should have been fired years ago, after the first trashy story you came up with. For some brainless reason that I can't even understand, I didn't do it. And I've let you stay on since then. But that ends today."

Kolchak was about to make an angry retort, but the final statement stopped him cold. He stared, his eyes wide in disbelieving shock. "Tony, you can't mean . . ."

"I said you only had one more chance. Now you've got ten minutes to get your belongings together and get out of here!" Tony ordered. "As of this moment, you are no longer an employee of the Independent News Service!"

For a moment Kolchak could only stand and gawk. He had been fired so many times, from so many newspapers and news services across the country, but Tony Vincenzo had never been responsible for any of it. Kolchak's distrust of people had made him wryly say to himself that it would probably happen someday, and yet now that it was happening he was coming to the much different realization that somewhere along the way, he had stopped thinking it would. If he had given his trust to Tony on any particular point, it was that if it were in Tony's control, he would always have a job.

He shook himself back to the present. Ron and Miss Emily were still watching, stunned. Tony had not even bothered to at least have the courtesy to fire Kolchak in the privacy of his office, with the door closed; he had humiliated Kolchak in front of the rest of the staff.

Kolchak clenched his teeth behind his lips. This was not the Tony Vincenzo he had known. He had to remember that. This was more like the person he had imagined in his mind that Tony was in Las Vegas, before they had really got acquainted.

He pushed his hat forward, shading his eyes from scrutiny. "Very well, _Mr. Vincenzo,_" he said as he stalked past. "I won't inconvenience you any longer with my presence. Or my computer. Or any of my files."

"Good!" Tony stormed towards his office. "I want you gone within ten minutes. Is that clear?"

"Iced crystal, _Mr. Vincenzo,_" Kolchak sneered.


	3. Walk Away

**Chapter Three**

"_September 3__rd__, 6:33 P.M._

"_I was still smarting from being fired by Mr. Vincenzo. He wanted me gone in ten minutes. Well, I didn't intend to disappoint him. I wanted to get as far away from him as possible. But that didn't mean I was going to turn my back on him, as he had so strangely done to me. Whether Vincenzo liked it or not, he still had Carl Kolchak fighting on his side of the ring."_

Kolchak walked around his desk, beginning the difficult task of untangling the computer cords. Of course, they were a mess. It was odd, really. If he just left the cords alone and did not mix them all up, how did this invariably happen? He unscrewed the monitor from the computer tower and began his attempt to follow the cord to its other end, unwinding it from other cords on the way down.

Miss Emily stood and watched, concern in her eyes. "Carl, I'm so sorry," she gasped. "I don't know what's gotten into Mr. Vincenzo. He just hasn't been himself today."

"Don't I know it, Miss Emily." Kolchak briefly glanced up at her. "But I'm going to change that. The future of Chicago may depend on it! Not to mention the future of my career," he muttered.

He raised his voice. "You know the thing that's been killing people all over town? It gave that one girl amnesia. And it's done something to Tony too. I'm sure of it. Whatever he says and does now, it probably isn't his fault. I'm going to make sure it gets reversed so he ends up back to normal again."

Miss Emily's eyes widened. "It sounds terribly dangerous," she said. "Carl, please remember how many people this . . . _thing_ has already killed or hurt. You could be next!"

"I know, Miss Emily. I know." At last the cords were separated. Kolchak stacked his keyboard on top of his monitor and reached for the computer tower. It was heavy enough that it would require a separate trip.

Ron watched from his desk. Even he looked shaken by Tony's drastic personality shift. "Do you need any help making Mr. Vincenzo's deadline, Kolchak?" he asked.

"The last thing I need now, Uptight, is help from you," Kolchak said. He backed into the gate and then into the door to open them. "Leave everything where it is. I'll be back at least two more times. Within ten minutes!"

Miss Emily sighed as he went out the door. "Poor Carl," she said, going back to her desk. "He's taking this hard."

". . . It's only what should have been done ages ago, as Mr. Vincenzo pointed out," Ron shrugged.

"Mr. Vincenzo never would have done this if he was in his right mind," Miss Emily frowned. "Ron, surely you can see that."

Ron averted his gaze. He knew it, but acknowledging it brought one of his fears to light. ". . . If he would fire Kolchak, do you think he'll treat us differently too?"

"He already has been," Miss Emily said. "He's so distant now." She shook her head. "I don't like it, Ron. I don't like it at all. And I don't like the thought of Carl chasing down the thing that's been terrorizing Chicago. He's going to get himself hurt! Then Mr. Vincenzo will be sorry, even if he doesn't remember."

Ron looked to Kolchak's desk. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, it was strange to see it being emptied. Carl Kolchak, eccentricities, aggravations, and all, had been part of the INS family for years. Tony, in essence disowning him, made for a very unsettling picture.

Tony, watching from his office window, glowered at the scene in the main room. He had thought that getting Kolchak out of his hair and out of his life would ease his anger. Instead, it was still churning inside him. If anything, it felt like he had made his problems worse, not better.

Kolchak came back inside, gathering the monitor and keyboard next. Tony continued to observe, but though Kolchak felt the other man's eyes upon him he did not turn. Instead he carried the objects out the door and to his car in silence. And some unknown pang stabbed Tony's heart.

He turned away, facing the wall. The Tony that would have let Kolchak stay on was gone. He would never be that person again. There were going to be more heavy changes around the Independent News Service; getting rid of Kolchak was only the first step. He would carry the wire service up from its position as a near-laughingstock and make it one of the most well-respected businesses in Chicago.

As Kolchak returned for his final batch of belongings, Tony refused to look back. But he could still hear what was being said.

"Well, this is the last time my shadow will grace this doorway for a while," Kolchak remarked as he walked through the gate.

"Oh Carl. . . ." Miss Emily was still worried. "You'll keep in touch, won't you?"

"Of course, dear Miss Emily," Kolchak soothed. "And I am going to bring back dear old, grouchy, heart-of-gold Vincenzo. Mark my words!"

"They'll be on your tombstone," Ron said. "If whatever's out there doesn't kill you, Mr. Vincenzo probably will."

"Let's hope he hasn't fallen that far," Kolchak muttered. Louder he said, "Okay group, I am leaving. Make sure _Mr. Vincenzo_ knows it."

And he left the building with dignity.

Tony clenched a fist. After a moment he whirled, shutting the door to his office with a bang. Miss Emily and Ron jumped a mile.

xxxx

"_September 3rd, 7:00 P.M._

"_It was strange, driving back to my apartment at that time of day. I've never had any reason to go there except to sleep. Even eating is something I always do away from the place. A good news office, that's what I call home. And now I had been kicked out of yet another one. This time it was more who had done it than that it had been done that upset me._

"_But as I rode through the busy Chicago streets I was already formulating a plan. I had been spending my time chasing after the people involved in the attacks. Now I was going to try to uncover the source of the problem. Once I got back and unloaded my computer and other knick-knacks in my sorry excuse for a living room, I was going to access the information highway on my laptop and see what I could dig up on giant worms. I was hoping there'd be some kind of a legend that I could tap into._

"_For the longest time there was nothing. I clicked through page after page of useless results, covering everything from how to raise worms to the proper way to fish. Well, I knew one thing—I'd never catch the big one with bait that size. I'd need some kind of bait to catch the bait, to say nothing of the size of fishing hook I'd have to have._

"_It was nearing midnight when I finally got a break."_

Kolchak stared at the screen, his eyes bloodshot, his hair a mess from dragging his fingers through it in frustration. He had tried every search he could think of that he had thought might help. Now he was looking at a page of aggravating, unhelpful results for the searched term _Monsters that cause amnesia._

"Whoever said that Google can find anything was an idiot," he muttered.

But there was one result that looked interesting enough to warrant clicking. He did so. A page came up describing various monsters to be used in some tabletop role-playing game. The one that had caused the page to turn up among the search results was something listed as Shudde M'ell. Included in its various attacks was amnesia.

Well, it was the only thing he had discovered so far. He typed the thing's name in the browser's search box and pressed Enter.

His eyes opened wide at what came up under Google's sample images. The thing looked horrible—and very familiar. As near as he could tell, it was an enormous worm with tentacles on its head. Or maybe the tentacles _were_ its head. His lip curled in revulsion. "Eww," he declared.

Further research turned his stomach all the more. Apparently Shudde M'ell belonged to the world of H.P. Lovecraft, created by a man named Brian Lumley. But . . . had he heard of something similar in real-life when he came up with the idea? What if there really was a race of worm things burrowing under the surface of the Earth? And not just any worm things, but worm things hailed as gods by each other and even some cultures of the world?

Kolchak leaned back in the chair, overwhelmed by what might lay ahead of him. "I know what I'll be doing tomorrow," he said to the lonely room.

xxxx

"_September 4th, 11:45 A.M._

"_At some point after that I obviously, finally fell asleep, as I was dead to the world until late the next morning. And even then, what awakened me was the jangling of my home telephone. I'd forgotten all about Captain Siska wanting me to find out what was wrong with Tony. He had just learned that I'd been fired. Needless to say, he was most unhappy._

"_When I came to enough to read the caller I.D. on my phone, I quickly deduced that he was calling to bellow at me for my failure and my brilliant move of being kicked off the good ship S.S. INS. I was right."_

"Hello?" Kolchak mumbled, still half-asleep.

Captain Siska's snarling voice woke him up in an instant. "Kolchak, what's the matter with you?" he roared. "I gave you a simple assignment and you even botched that!"

Kolchak straightened in the chair. "Why, Captain, how good of you to call," he said, the irony clear in his voice. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you."

"Do you know where I've been?" Siska snapped.

"No, but I could make a guess," Kolchak said. "You've just spoken to Anthony Vincenzo."

"And he said that you didn't follow up on your assignment _again!_ You got yourself fired because of _that!_"

"I didn't bother with the assignment because I was looking into what caused _Mr. Vincenzo's_ drastic mood swings," Kolchak countered. "In his condition, he never would have told me anything. But I don't think he remembers anyway. The more I investigate, Captain, the more it looks like he was attacked by the giant worm."

"I don't want to hear any more about a giant worm!" Siska howled.

"Captain, listen to me for one minute!" Kolchak glanced to the computer, which was still on. "There's a giant worm in the H.P. Lovecraft-inspired stories called Shudde M'ell. It even has tentacles! And it can cause amnesia, at least according to its stats in some role-playing game."

"_This_ is what you've been researching?" Siska was not pleased. "You got yourself fired for some _fictional monster?_"

"What if it isn't fictional?" Kolchak yelled over him. "What if it was inspired by something real? I'm going to do a little research into that possibility today."

"I should have my head examined for thinking you'd be any kind of help on this case!" Siska ranted. "You're never any help! I don't know why Mr. Vincenzo didn't fire you years ago!"

"Sometimes I wonder myself," Kolchak muttered under his breath.

Louder he said, "Captain, I'm positive I'm on the right track. And deep down, you're afraid that I am, aren't you? You're just like Vincenzo; you're afraid that a giant worm really did kill those five people, but you can't admit it!"

"Seven," Siska growled.

Kolchak started. "What?"

"Whatever it was killed two more people last night," Siska admitted.

Kolchak leaped to his feet, still holding the telephone. "You see? It's going to keep killing until we find a way to stop it! And that can't even begin to happen unless we accept what it is!" He grabbed for a notepad and pencil. "Were there any witnesses this time?"

"No. But there was a big pit of dirt," Siska grudgingly confessed. "Just like with the others."

Kolchak scribbled on the paper. "Weren't there two people killed those other times too?" he said. "In fact, wasn't the incident with the body on the cemetery fence the only time there was one victim?"

"We've thought of that, Kolchak," Siska growled. "We've been looking into it. You're right. It's possible that the woman on the fence wasn't killed by the same . . . perp. That one could've been a copycat crime."

"That's some copycat crime," Kolchak said, sardonic. "I wonder how many copycats it took to push Tony's car over."

"Mr. Vincenzo is the only possible witness we have to that murder!" Siska said in frustration. "And we can't even find out what he might know that he didn't tell us!"

"What he might know, he probably doesn't _know_ he knows," Kolchak retorted. "And I _am_ going to find out how to bring that knowledge, and every other sealed memory of his, back to the surface. However, to do that I'm going to have to stay on the worm angle. You should try it, Captain. Maybe then things would start to fall into place!"

"It will never fall into place!" Siska snarled. "I wish I hadn't asked you to try to find out anything!"

"Oh, it wouldn't have mattered, Captain," Kolchak said. "I would have kept checking this out anyway. I'll be sure to let you know the moment I have something more concrete to go on." This was said with oozing sarcasm as he hung up.

With a sigh he slumped back in the chair, blankly staring at the notes he had scratched out during the conversation. He had better get going, if he was going to go somewhere to look into the possibility of Shudde M'ell really existing. And even if he learned it was possible, what about whether there was a way to defeat it? Maybe it had supposedly gone out with the dinosaurs but had secretly endured. And if a meteor had not actually killed it, what would?

Suddenly he leaned forward, stunned. Something was leaping out at him that he had not even noticed before.

The worm really did seem to like to kill in pairs. The woman on the fence had indeed been the only victim found in the one instance. If no one else had been around, why hadn't the worm made Tony its second victim?

"Insignificant . . . or vitally important?" Kolchak mused to himself. "I'm betting on the latter."

He got up, grabbing his coat, camera, and tape recorder as he headed for the door.

xxxx

Tony had not slept well. For the most part he had tossed and turned, hovering back and forth from that strange state between sleep and awareness to fitful dreams. His pajamas were rumpled and wrinkled, and his hair a wild mess, by the time he conceded defeat and staggered out of bed.

What was wrong? As near as he could tell, it had something to do with Carl Kolchak—judging from how the guy was insistent on staying in his thoughts. Maybe it was because Tony had fired him. But Kolchak had had it coming to him for years. He could not obey orders. He needed to be brought down a peg or two. Or ten.

Tony shuffled into the kitchen and routed through the fridge for the orange juice. Utterly exhausted, yet fully awake, he stared with bleary eyes as he poured himself a glass.

"I thought I was rid of the guy and yet he still can't leave me alone," he berated to the empty room. "Why? What do I have to do to get some peace around here?"

The wall telephone rang off the hook in response. He gave it a look of disgust. Phone calls this early in the day usually had something to do with Kolchak. But listening to the incessant ringing was aggravating him. At last he stormed over, jerking the receiver out of the cradle. "Hello?" he demanded.

"Anthony Albert Vincenzo, what's wrong?" his sister's voice exclaimed on the other end.

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "There's nothing wrong," he said, defensive.

She was not convinced in the least. "Something is," she said. "And you don't sound right."

"How am I supposed to sound?" Tony retorted.

"Not like you're talking to a stranger," she told him.

He froze in stunned disbelief. Kolchak had said something like that too. Not that he was about to acknowledge it aloud.

"That's ridiculous," he said. "I know who I'm talking to." He hurried on before she could protest. "What did you want?"

"I wanted to see if you were alright," she said. "The word's been coming in that there's been a series of murders there in Chicago, all committed by the same person!"

"Some people think it's a giant worm," Tony grumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing." He set down the now-empty glass. "Yeah, I'm fine." Or he wished he were, anyway. Kolchak was driving him to the point of losing his marbles.

"What about Carl?"

Tony rubbed his eyes. He did not need this now. His sister had always been sympathetic towards Kolchak, for reasons that were a mystery to Tony. She would be shocked beyond belief that Tony had fired Kolchak at long last.

"He's fine too," Tony said finally. "The killer didn't get any of us."

"I hope not. Do the police have any suspects?"

"No," Tony said. "Not yet. Look, I'm sorry, but I've really got to go."

"Okay. And I hope you feel better soon, Anthony, even if you won't tell me what's wrong." She hung up before he could protest.

He glowered at the telephone as he pulled it away from his ear and hung it up. Slumping at the kitchen table, he ran a hand through his hair. Kolchak and the other INS employees had all been sure that something was wrong and he was not acting right. Now his own flesh-and-blood relative had echoed that sentiment, without ever having known about anyone else's concerns.

Could there be any truth to it?

Well, he _had_ been having headaches ever since waking up on the road the other night. He still had no memory of how he had gotten into that predicament. He had wondered whether the killer could have knocked him out, but the medic the police had brought in had found no trace of a bump or chloroform or any other signs that he had been deliberately rendered unconscious. They thought he was suffering from some sort of mental trauma.

Seeing the dead body on the fence had been horrifying, but would it have disturbed him to the point of trauma and blocking out memories?

Wouldn't he know if he were missing memories?

For some weird reason, now he was thinking of when Kolchak had asked him if he remembered watching over him at the hospital. Of course, Tony did . . . but when he tried to think of why he had bothered he drew a blank. There was honestly some part of his memory that was not there. And if he were truthful with himself, it was not the only missing piece.

Why had he kept Kolchak on so long? Why did Kolchak so brazenly call him _Tony_?

Why couldn't he get the image of Kolchak's hurt look when Tony had fired him out of his mind?

"_Mama Mia,"_ he muttered in wearied exhaustion. There were no answers.

He had better get dressed and go to work. It was all he could do.

xxxx

"_September 4th, 1:45 P.M._

"_Doctor Agatha Marlin had earned several degrees in zoology and biology. She also studied cryptology, which made her—I hoped—qualified to answer my questions._

"_Unfortunately, she was busy moving boxes when I found her at the Museum of Natural History. And she seemed to find that more interesting than anything else."_

Kolchak knocked on the open door before advancing into the room. "Excuse me," he greeted the bent-over figure of Dr. Agatha Marlin. "I'm Carl Kol- . . ."

"Move that one on top of the next stack over," Agatha directed without looking up. She pointed to a beat-up cardboard box that had clearly seen better times.

Kolchak stared at her. "What?"

"The box!" she exclaimed.

"The . . . oh." Kolchak did as she requested. "Is this alright?"

She glanced up from the containers she was shifting around. "Perfect. Now, who are you again?"

Kolchak gave an awkward grin. "Well, I didn't really have the chance to fully introduce myself, but I'm Carl Kolchak, INS." He flashed his identification too fast for her to study it. "I was hoping you could answer some questions for me about what's been killing people in Chicago the last few days."

She perked up. "The worm, right? Finally! I've been trying to call the police for ages."

Kolchak stared, stunned. "You . . . you have?" he stammered.

She nodded. "I don't know why they're so adverse to the idea. I mean, there've been multiple documented sightings of supposedly extinct creatures. And there's the lake monsters that are probably surviving dinosaurs. Why not big worms?"

"This isn't just any 'big worm', Doctor," Kolchak put in. "It's got tentacles on its head. Is that possible?"

She shrugged. "Who knows! There's so much we don't know about the ancient world, Mr. Kolchak. Maybe it's a prehistoric ancestor of the squid." Her eyes gleamed. "I wish I could study it."

"I kind of don't think it would let you get that close," Kolchak said.

Agatha was barely listening. "If you want to know more about ancient worms, you'll be interested in this." She crossed the room to her desk and lifted a small, framed picture.

Kolchak leaned in to examine it. The style looked old and not very detailed, but against the green background there were several humanoid figures bowing before what appeared to be a large, fat worm as long as the circle of people was wide.

"What's this?" he asked.

"No one's quite sure," Agatha explained. "This is just a copy; the original was found near a site in the United Kingdom where Druids used to worship. The scene could be depicting them, or it could be some other group from the same time period. It looks like this giant worm was a god to whoever they were."

"And this was what you were going to tell the police," Kolchak said.

"Yes. The worm god was said to have free reign over the ground. It could burrow wherever it pleased."

Kolchak got out his camera. "Do you mind if I . . . ?"

"Oh, go ahead and take a picture," Agatha told him.

Kolchak snapped one. "Tell me, Doctor, how would someone go about defeating this . . . worm god?" He stepped back, looking the picture over again before Agatha set it down.

She shook her head. "I'm not sure. It's supposed to be immune to fire and water; I remember that much." She crossed her arms. "And I imagine that, like all worms, it has multiple hearts."

"So if you tried to chop it up, you could end up with an even bigger problem," Kolchak deduced.

"Probably. If you could even get close enough to try." She sighed. "There's not a whole lot more that's known about it. Frankly, Mr. Kolchak . . ." She turned to stare out the window at downtown Chicago. "If that's what we're dealing with, Chicago just might be doomed."

"We'll see about that." Kolchak headed for the door. "Thank you, Doctor. You've been most helpful."

She whirled to face him. "When will your article be in the paper?" she demanded.

Caught in his deceit, Kolchak froze. "Well . . . I'm actually not sure about that," he admitted truthfully. "Soon, if I have anything to say about it." He touched the brim of his hat. "Good day."

And he fled the office.


	4. Voices

**Notes: The story _lives!_ I've been having trouble figuring out how to work it without knowing in detail about what happens in _The Burrowers Beneath_. Let's see how it goes.**

**Chapter Four**

"_September 4th, 10:51 P.M._

"_Don't you hate it when the police and the military know very well that something is wrong, but they refuse to let anyone else in on the non-secret?_

"_I do, and boy, did I hate it when the National Guard got called in after the next two victims were found dead in McKinley Park. Even though everyone knew the National Guard wouldn't be there if there hadn't been an extraordinary disaster, they were trying to say that it was part of a hunt for a dangerous human killer. I don't know who bought that tripe, but I certainly didn't. And without Tony Vincenzo to back me up, I went to my good friend Captain Siska—who just so happened to be outside the area where the National Guard was at work._

"_That . . . didn't go so well."_

Captain Siska's eyes flashed at the sight of the reporter in the seersucker suit. "_Kolchak!_ Don't you know how to stay away?" he snarled.

"I'm afraid not, Captain, especially when there's a story involved." Kolchak came to a smooth stop in front of the frustrated policeman. "So what's the real scoop here? Is the National Guard looking for the worm in its giant tunnel?"

"Of course not!" Siska snapped.

"Then why, pray tell, is that huge hole in the ground uncovered?" Kolchak asked, pointing to said hole. The dirt was in a large pile next to it, instead of being inside it. Incoherent voices could be heard calling to each other in the passageway.

Siska was not pleased. "They're trying to find the killer," he said at last. "Not a big worm, Kolchak—but a person!"

"They'll never find any people except its victims!" Kolchak exclaimed in frustration. "And they'll probably end up on the menu too! Are they prepared for what they're going to find? Could anyone _really_ be prepared?"

"Kolchak, just shut up and go away!" Siska ordered. "You couldn't find out what we needed to know. And we don't need you around here!"

The ground rumbled underfoot. Both men stumbled, nearly falling. Siska grabbed onto a nearby squad car. Kolchak held onto his hat, clawing at the air.

"You see?" he cried over the noise. "The worm is making the earthquake by moving under the surface!"

"The Earth's _plates_ are making the earthquake by moving under the surface!" Siska howled. "There is no worm!"

A chilling series of screams, mixed with the firing of guns, echoed from the direction of the hole. Kolchak and Siska turned to look, eyes wide. A tentacle flew out of the opening, thrusting a soldier into the air like a ragdoll.

"Then what just did that?" Kolchak burst out in horror. There was nothing that could be done for the soldier. He flinched as the boy landed several yards away from the hole with a sickening _thud_.

Siska cringed too. "I don't know!" he retorted. Other troops, stationed aboveground, ran to the thrown soldier's aid.

"I think you do, Captain," Kolchak said. "You won't say it, but you know."

Siska turned his full attention back to Kolchak. "Get out, Kolchak!" he ordered. "You don't have any leverage in this city anymore. Mr. Vincenzo won't back you up. I'm not going to either!"

The look in his eyes said he meant business. Kolchak backed up, then turned and headed back to his car. "I hope you know what you're doing, Captain!" he shot over his shoulder. "And I hope you think about it when Shudde M'ell's real-life inspiration is tearing Chicago to pieces!"

"_OUUUT!"_ was Siska's only response.

xxxx

"_September 6th, 12:32 P.M._

"_I tried to get into the closed-off area for a better look at the hole and the worm. I got as far as the spot where the hapless soldier had been thrown before his comrades-in-arms routed me out again._

"_The days had passed in a strange blur. I didn't have work to go to, but as far as I was concerned I still had a story to cover. I researched everything I could about Shudde M'ell and his burrowing family. I showed up at the sites Chicago's worm was attacking. Eventually I got myself thrown in jail. And, well, without Tony around, I ended up spending the night before I was released._

"_I did a lot of thinking that night, as I did before and as I've continued to do after. Some time ago I'd started to really consider how much Tony did for me, in spite of his refusal to publish a lot of my stories. But even though I'd begun to realize what a good and misused friend he had been, it didn't hit me anything like it did when I was suddenly on my own._

"_Siska was right—without Tony, there was no one in power who was fighting for me. The police certainly were not. They were probably thrilled that I was mostly out of their hair, and that Tony wasn't around to get me out of hot water with them._

"_I hadn't seen Tony since that fateful day. I'd promised Miss Emily I'd keep in touch, but I hadn't been down to the INS offices. Earlier I'd gone down to Miss Emily's house looking for her. She wasn't home. Maybe that was just as well; I wouldn't have been much company anyway._

"_Of course, I was sick of Tony's new groove—yells, anger, and little else. The Tony Vincenzo with whom I spent many hours arguing was just a big softie. But the main reason I stayed away from INS wasn't because of not wanting to incur his newfound wrath. The truth was, I felt like I'd lost something very important. And if I went back there, I would only rub that in. You see, I had no idea how to get it back._

"_I'd looked and looked, scouring every bit of information I could find on the fictional worms in the hopes that I would learn something about how to break the amnesia spell, or whatever it was that had caused Tony to block all memories of how to be a decent person. But in the end I could find nothing. I was left to conclude that, even if the amnesia had been rendered through paranormal means, the end result was just the same as amnesia gained in other, more socially believable ways. There was no magic spell that could be broken to restore the gaps in Tony's personality. He had suffered a terrible trauma. His own mind had blocked his memories and feelings. And sometimes that never could be retrieved._

"_Nevertheless, after coming to that acknowledgment, I also determined that maybe there **was** something I could do after all. Maybe, if I continued to drop in and visit Tony, he would start to wear down. Maybe the barrier in his mind would break. On the other hand, maybe I would just cause it to get built up even more. Maybe Tony did not **want** to remember what he had been before. Maybe he no longer wanted to be that person._

"_Still, I knew there was no other choice. I had to try. So, I headed back down the familiar road that led to the Independent News Service."_

Miss Emily looked up with a start when the door was flung open and Kolchak strolled inside. "Carl!" she exclaimed, getting up from her desk. "How are you? My goodness, what are you doing back here?"

"Hello, Miss Emily," Kolchak boldly greeted. He was relieved to see that Ron was not at his desk. "I'm doing just fine. I just came to pick Tony's brain about something. How is our _Mr. Vincenzo_ doing today?"

Miss Emily cast a nervous glance in the direction of the closed office door. "Not very well, I'm afraid," she said. "Oh Carl, he's just stayed in as terrible of a mood as he was in when he fired you. Actually, he might have gotten even worse."

Kolchak frowned. "How could he get worse?" he wondered. He walked through the gate and to Miss Emily's desk. His own, he noticed, was still vacant.

"He's been very sullen since you left," Miss Emily told him. "Ron asked him if he was going to replace you and he snapped that he didn't want to talk about it and to just leave him alone. A couple of times I've seen him looking at your desk as though he regrets what he did, but he won't say a word or make any move to fix it."

"I wouldn't expect Tony to say anything," Kolchak said. "Especially not in his state." But the news interested him and gave him some hope. Maybe Tony actually was regretting it. Maybe he still had some sense of humanity and compassion.

"How is your investigation coming?" Miss Emily queried.

"Oh, fine, fine." Kolchak sighed in frustration. "Everyone knows something isn't right. The National Guard is even here by now! But everything official is still denying the truth. Chicago is being ripped apart by a big worm and no one will even report it!"

"Do you have any idea how to defeat it?" Miss Emily asked in concern.

"None whatsoever," Kolchak said. "I've sent for _The Burrowers Beneath_, the story that introduced the world to Shudde M'ell. But Chicago seems to be out of every copy. And, since the last couple of days outside mail hasn't been getting through by any means except electronic, I haven't been able to get hold of it."

Miss Emily blinked. "Oh, I know about that story!" she exclaimed. "I did a Lovecraftian-themed crossword puzzle a few weeks ago."

"That's right!" Kolchak cried in sudden remembrance. "Miss Emily, you don't happen to own a copy of that book, do you? The real worm may have been the inspiration for Shudde M'ell, so there might be something worthwhile in it."

Miss Emily paused for a moment, staring into the distance as she pondered. "I don't think I have the book," she said, opening her desk drawers, "but I might have the notes from that week's puzzle around here somewhere. You're welcome to look them over, Carl."

Kolchak perked up. "Oh thank you, Miss Emily. You're an angel, a true angel." He glanced to Tony's door, sobering again. "So, is the great beast in?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"Yes," Miss Emily said, hesitant. "But I'm afraid he won't want to see you."

"You're darn-tootin' right I don't," another voice growled.

Both Kolchak and Miss Emily looked up. Tony had opened the door and was standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowed in anger. They still carried that look that said he felt he was associating with strangers. He was aggravated and annoyed. But there was something else, too—a hint that he felt lost and did not know why.

Kolchak sauntered over to the gate. "Tony!" he said. "Don't you have anything more than that to say?"

"A whole lot, most of it stuff I shouldn't be saying in front of Miss Cowles," Tony retorted.

"Then let's go in your office and you can say it there," Kolchak said. He opened the gate and stepped through, moving towards the open doorway.

Tony did not budge. "Kolchak, I fired you to get you away from here," he said. "And now you're back. Why? Don't you think I deserve some peace from you after all these years? Huh? Or do you think I'm eternally bound to your stupid whims and stories?"

Kolchak stopped in front of him. "Well, according to Miss Emily, you haven't been getting that peace even though I'm not here," he said. "That's strange, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah. I would." Tony moved to go inside his office and shut the door. "Now why don't you just get out of here and go chase whatever fable you're following?"

Kolchak hurried forward and grabbed the door, placing his foot just inside. "The fable I'm chasing involves our entire city," he said. "And you too, Vincenzo."

Tony held the door fast, not about to let Kolchak come in. "I'm not going to listen to that again," he growled. "No worm was responsible for anything that happened to me."

"You can't even remember what happened!" Kolchak burst out. "How would you know whether it was a worm or not?"

"Because worms aren't giants and they don't go around toppling metropolises!" Tony roared.

Miss Emily, watching it all, shook her head. It sounded so similar to the many arguments of long ago. But Tony's anger and cold attitude towards Kolchak made it so different.

She looked down, clasping her hands on the desk as she offered a silent prayer for things to return to normal. This was tearing Kolchak up inside. And although Tony would never say it, she had the feeling that he, too, was feeling an undeniable stirring and turmoil over all of this.

His mind no longer remembered, but somewhere, his heart did.

xxxx

"_September 6th, 2:30 P.M._

"_It was strange, but I was actually more hopeful when I left INS. Tony had still been abnormally standoffish, but he was wearing down. The utter, fiery fury of before was gone. He knew something was wrong. He wouldn't say so, but he knew it. And that, I hoped, would eventually help to bring him back._

"_For now I had Miss Emily's notes to look through. I had the hope that I would find something, some clue, on how to defeat Godzilla's cousin. So, when I got back to the apartment, I settled in to look through them._

"_Meanwhile, back at the good old INS, Tony was having a little crisis."_

Tony paced the floor, unable to calm his nerves. Kolchak's visit had rattled him more than he had already been. And that was not what he needed right now. He could feel that his stomach was churning. He would probably have to go in to the doctor about his ulcer at any time.

Curse that Kolchak. Why had he showed up again? Had he wanted to beg for his job back?

. . . He had not done anything of the kind. Really, all he had seemed to want was to yammer about that giant worm, or whatever it was rampaging through Chicago. And he had not acted like his story was so amazing Tony would want to re-hire him. He had just acted concerned that the worm was killing people—and giving amnesia to others.

Tony ran a hand through his hair. _Something_ was definitely killing people. He knew that. And he had seen the damage report pictures. Could a human being have really caused it?

Was he just denying the other possibility because he was afraid, as Kolchak had told him?

He stepped to the doorway. Miss Emily was still at her desk, having resumed typing. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked out.

"Miss Cowles," he greeted.

She looked up. "Yes, Mr. Vincenzo?"

Tony stopped in front of the desk. "Carl Kolchak has ended up fired from every paper he's ever worked on, usually within a couple of weeks. Why was he working at the Independent News Service for so long?"

Miss Emily leaned back, as though taking in the question. She almost seemed to have half-expected it. But when she met his eyes again, there was a sadness there that he could not understand. "Because you let him stay on, Mr. Vincenzo."

"I know that! But _why?_" Tony threw up his hands in the air.

She shook her head. "I can't tell you that, Mr. Vincenzo."

He stiffened in disbelief. "You can't or you won't?" he snapped, his voice rising.

Miss Emily drew herself up to her full height. "I _can't,_" she emphasized. "I know what I believe the reason was, but I don't know your mind. I don't know why you kept him on. And I don't know why you let him go!" she burst out.

Tony rocked back in surprise. "Because he's a terrible reporter!" he shot back. "He can't follow orders, he goes off on tangents chasing things that nobody believes in, and most importantly, _he drives me crazy!_ He's driving me crazy right now. I can't get away from him, no matter what I do! He shows up here, he shows up there! He doesn't even have to physically be around to bug me!"

"Well, maybe you should take that as a sign!" Miss Emily spat.

"A sign?" Tony regarded her in disbelief.

"Yes, a sign!" She gave a curt nod. "A sign that you shouldn't have abandoned a good man when he needed you!"

"Oh, he _needed_ me alright," snarled Tony. "He always needed me for something so he wouldn't lose his job. That's all he wanted; he took advantage of me all these years! He never even showed any gratitude! Quite the opposite, actually!"

Miss Emily looked for a moment at a loss for words. It was hard to argue that point. But then the answer came.

"It's not always easy for some people to show their gratitude," she said. "And I suppose sometimes we end up taking people for granted, even the ones we care about deeply. But Carl _is_ grateful, Mr. Vincenzo. I can assure you of that. And you're important to him for far more than just his job. He came here today just to talk to you, to try to make you understand what happened to you! He's worried about you!"

"Pah!" Tony whirled away in disgust. "He's worried about his future without a job. No one else is stupid enough to hire him!"

But whether he wanted to admit it or not, Miss Emily's words had wormed into his mind. Now they would not leave him be. He reached up, massaging his throbbing forehead as he turned to go back to his office.

Now Miss Emily was concerned. "Mr. Vincenzo, are you alright?" she exclaimed.

"No!" he retorted. "And it's his fault!" He stormed across the floor and through the open doorway, just wanting to get away from it all.

As he sank down at his desk the realization of the argument fully hit him. ". . . I was just yelling at a little old lady," he said in disbelief to the room.

He slumped back in the chair, staring up at the ceiling as though it could give him answers. What was _happening_ to him? Something was wrong, there was no way around that. Even his sister had noticed. But just knowing something was wrong did little to help him find a solution. Kolchak himself, for all of his insistence that a giant worm was at large, had no clue how to help his former boss.

Tony had no idea how to help himself, either. There were definite chinks in his memory bank. He realized that all the more as time went by. And he had started to realize exactly what was apparently missing.

He could not locate any positive feelings for anyone—not Kolchak, not Miss Emily, not even his close relatives. All he found was either indifference or negativity.

Did that mean he did not like anyone? Surely not. But . . . how could he have lost actual feelings? Was it more just the memory of those feelings that was gone, sealed away, something? How could he get them back?

Something was watching him. He jerked upright, instinctively looking to the doorway. No one was there. He looked to the windows. They were vacant too. Yet he could feel something, some sort of presence. And now his head was pounding worse. He reached up, clutching at the offending spot.

"Who's here?" he demanded. No answer. "I _know_ you're here!" he fumed. "Stop messing around and come out in the open!"

The chuckle in his mind froze him in place. That was not his voice.

"_**Insignificant human. You have no idea what's been done to you or why."**_

His heart gathered speed, as did his breathing. Something was there. He heard it, he felt it. And whatever it was, it felt evil.

"Who are you?" he rasped.

"_**That is of no consequence. You will continue to serve me, whether you desire it or not. You are helpless, no more than a puppet on a string."**_

"I'm not going to serve anyone except Mr. Marmelstein!" Tony exclaimed. "I'm not a puppet; I'm my own person!"

"_**You're not even whole. You've felt it, haven't you? The missing portions of your memory? Oh, not that you will ever admit it to anyone. You're far too proud for that."**_

"How do you know about it?" Tony wanted to yell, but instead his words came out at barely above a whisper. It felt like the evil he had sensed was closing in around him. His hands shaking, he started to unbutton his shirt and reach for the Benedictine cross around his neck.

"_**I am the one responsible for your loss. And you will never reclaim any of it. You belong to me and only me!"**_

Tony curled his fist in desperation around the medallion, _Hail Marys_ running through his mind and coming, whispered, to his lips. The suffocating darkness retreated. He gasped, as though a physical vise had been released from over his nose and mouth. He could breathe again. The air was clear. But his mind was all the more muddled.

What _was_ that? What had it even been _talking_ about? He did not belong to it, whatever it was. He _couldn't!_

Still . . . he did know that some of his memories were gone. What if . . . could that . . . _thing_ actually be responsible, as it claimed?

"God help me," he choked out, his knuckles white as he clutched the relic. "Please, God, help me."

Standing unseen in the doorway, Miss Emily stared in stunned sadness.

"Oh, Mr. Vincenzo," she said softly. "If only we knew how to help you too."


End file.
